


The Key

by halfpastmonsoon



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Love/Hate, Mind Games, Pining, Teasing, hand kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 10:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastmonsoon/pseuds/halfpastmonsoon
Summary: Your name is Kirigiri Kyouko, and you have to make a decision.





	The Key

She walks towards you and hands you something small and light, warmed up from being held by her before her fingertips brushed against your thinly-gloved hands. You watch as her fingers, so pale they appear white, with dark, perfectly-groomed fingernails crowning them, move back, revealing a key now resting in your palm. You raise your your eyebrows slightly before looking at her in confusion, prompting her to smile condescendingly before turning away.

She's gone before you can say anything, triggering an odd feeling of deja vu inside you, although you're sure this has never happened before.

Not in this timeline, at least.

You shake the feeling off and stare at the key again. You know what it's for. You know what door it's going to open. You know you're expected to open it later today.

You're not sure if you want to, though.

Your name is Kirigiri Kyouko, and you have to make a decision. The warmth you feel deep inside is so very embarrassing, pulsating shamefully with temptation, with desire.

You were never one to act on such desires. How come you can't throw the key away, then? It feels like it's going to burn through your hand and fall into the snowcap by your feet. If she asked about it, it would be easy to grit your teeth and say you lost it and couldn't come.

She would know you're lying, she's the Queen of Liars, after all, so all you could do is lie confidently, straight to her face. The more you think about it, she probably wouldn't even ask – instead pretending nothing ever happened. Celestia Ludenberg could never lose, after all. She could never admit defeat. What are the chances that you're going to see her again, anyway?

You must look ridiculous like that, standing in the middle of the street, staring into your palm. You knit your eyebrows and look forward. You hate to admit that you want to see her again, and that's exactly why you're conflicted. You don't want that desire, any aspect of it.

You don't want Celestia Ludenberg, one of the most despicable people you know, to take up so much of your thought process right now. You're aware you, a detective, an excellent one at that, shouldn't have anything but contempt for a gambler, a proud liar, a girl who aims to spit in the face of those like you. You especially shouldn't find yourself attracted to her for all of the above reasons specifically.

And yet, you are. As evidenced by the heat that started in your chest and appeared to continuously move downwards. You scoff and take a step forward.

You know, deep down, that she would be very happy to see how much she made you struggle just then. She would cover her lips with her hand, badly hiding a subtle smile. She would giggle softly, holding back her amusement to keep up the charade of royal upbringing.

You are not going to let her laugh at you, however quietly.

You pick up the pace, your black boots stomping through the snow rhythmically. You know where you're going, and you're not proud of it. Your hands ball into fists as you approach the destination – Celestia's apartment, the one you can now open with the key you've been holding onto.

You squint, stopping at the door, and look back. It's getting dark, and cold. The only thing keeping you warm is the irritating heat in your lower body. You stomp your feet to shake off the snow, and insert the key into the hole, carefully unlocking the door.

Immediately, you notice it's lit by candles and nothing else, causing the red and black walls to appear warm and oddly welcoming. Soon, your eyes get used to the lighting, and you see her lying on the bed in the corner, her vampiric eyes drilling ito you from the cold paleness of her face, her small lips curling into an unnatural smile. You shudder, locking the door. You take your boots off, neither of you uttering a word, her not budging an inch.

Finally, you turn towards her, having removed your jacket, and your violet eyes meet hers, a battle neither of you is going to win. You get the uncomfortable feeling that it doesn't bother her at all, because she has already won the war.

She gestures towards you, and you sit on the edge of the bed. She's still wearing the dress, with all its accessories and frills, her clip-on ponytails cascading down onto the bed, her knee socks teasing you from her legs, almost touching you.

She raises her delicate hand towards you, like a benevolent matron giving you the privilege to kiss her ring. You grab the hand and put it up against your cheek, not breaking eye contact. She freezes, her eyes expressing nothing. You kiss the palm of her hand, your chapped lips brushing against her smooth skin, and then you let it go, almost violently.

She rests her hand on her exposed thigh and looks you in the eye. Another challenge. She's aware of what's happening to you and attempting to guide your actions. Instead, you lean forward and kiss her lips, as her arms wrap around your waist, tightly, her hands riding up your shirt. You lose track of your actions, only remembering the tittilating sound of skin brushing against fabric.

The next day, she leaves. You don't ask where to, and she only says you will meet again in another life.

You make the key into a necklace, but never wear it. You would hate to give her the satisfaction.


End file.
